


Sharal Var'tuur (Lazy Morning)

by Bigorneaux



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (just a little bit - as a treat), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, But it's dirty fluff, Corin and Din get their shit together and have a great time, Edging, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff, LadyIrina is a deity among mere mortals, M/M, Married Relationship, No plot at all, This is basically 5000 words of smut, thank you for Corin, whoopsies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigorneaux/pseuds/Bigorneaux
Summary: Absently, Corin reaches up to his face to scratch an itch and smears a line of blaster grease across part of his lower lip and cheek. No idea it’s there, he goes back to his work on the blaster, and Din’s throat constricts a little at the sight. He looks so unguarded and sweet. His bottom lip, in addition to being smudged with black grease, is pink from being bitten in concentration. Din thinks about how those lips would feel under his thumb if he rose to wipe the smudge away. Soft, warm, maybe a little chapped.Din and Corin enjoy a well-deserved, lazy morning together.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/Din Djarin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Sharal Var'tuur (Lazy Morning)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Touch and Taste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789363) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> So, uh, funny story, I sat down today to work on a chapter of a completely different, and much tamer fic, and then the smut deities arrived and I wrote this instead! It was fun and I have zero regrets. It's basically just 5000 words of vanilla-dirty, married sex. But it's the smuttiest thing I think I've ever written, so go me, I guess? I'm reasonably pleased with how it turned out and I hope you enjoy. Feedback is always welcomed and treasured, but do be gentle. I write for fun and to hang out with the characters I love, and I'm probably still a bit rusty when it comes to writing smut! And thank you, always, to LadyIrina for the absolute gift that is the Mandorin 'verse!

Din blows on the cup of caf in his hands, trying to cool it. They’d run out of milk and while Din _could_ walk to the Covert’s kitchen to get another jug, he has no desire to go through the process of actually making himself presentable enough to leave the room. And Corin, who would go get the milk without hesitation, is currently engrossed in cleaning their blasters. He’s relaxed and looks utterly adorable, hair still askew and sleep clothes rumpled. So, bothering him is not an option either. Lazy mornings like this are rare and Din’s going to relish it, bitter caf be damned. 

Grogu had stayed the night with Raga and Paz, who’d offered to take him directly to Barthor and the other foundlings in the morning. Raga is pregnant, expecting their first child, and they’d been taking Grogu more often lately. Din suspects it’s because they are both terrified that they have no idea how to actually care for a baby and are trying to assure themselves by practicing with Grogu. Regardless of why, Grogu is delighted by their increased attentions; he loves his _bavodu'e_ , his “Pash and Wags” as he calls them, and goes with them happily. And it makes for a nice break for his tired _buire_. 

Sipping at the still-too-hot caf, Din makes a little face. He hides it quickly behind the datapad he’s feigning interest in so Corin can’t see. His husband is more self-assured than he has been in the past, but he’s still eager to please and would absolutely fret and fuss and jump up to go to the kitchen if he realized anything was amiss for Din. And right now Din just wants to watch him. He abandons the cup of caf on the bedside table, stretching out like a loth-cat on the messy, unmade bed. He needs the caf to fully wake up, but it can, he supposes, wait. It’ll be easier to gulp down cold, something he’s done a million times before on long runs when even simple goods like milk are luxuries. 

He peers over the datapad. Corin’s cross-legged on the floor of their small quarters, his shoulders loose but his blue eyes intent as he fiddles with the wiring on the power pack of his favourite blaster. Absently, Corin reaches up to his face to scratch an itch and smears a line of blaster grease across part of his lower lip and cheek. No idea it’s there, he goes back to his work on the blaster, and Din’s throat constricts a little at the sight. He looks so unguarded and sweet. His bottom lip, in addition to being smudged with black grease, is pink from being bitten in concentration. Din thinks about how those lips would feel under his thumb if he rose to wipe the smudge away. Soft, warm, maybe a little chapped. They’d part easily for him, fall open to let Din press his thumb into the warm, wet heat of Corin’s mouth. 

Even without the caf, Din suddenly feels a little more awake, his pulse thumping a bit faster as heat pools in his gut. He hadn’t been particularly invested in the book he’d been reading, but is even less so now. _Sorry, Tal Nano_ , he thinks, not really sorry at all, _but your treatise on the impact of non-verbal communication on cross-species negotiation will have to wait._ There hadn’t really been anything new in the book yet anyway, and while Din takes the art of negotiation pretty seriously, he’s suspicious that the book will prove a waste of time. 

His other plans, however, will likely be an excellent use of time. Morning sex, Din has decided over the years, is the absolute best. To be fair, all sex with Corin is pretty great, but in the morning, there’s a languid playfulness about it that Din loves. Sometimes it’s slow and sleepy, other times it’s more energetic, but always it carries with it the sense that there’s all the time in the galaxy. He pictures standing in front of Corin, nudging the blaster out of his hand and easing his _cyare_ up onto his knees until those full lips are pressed against the thin fabric that covers Din’s now aching cock. An image of those blue, blue eyes looking up at him heavy-lidded as that wet, hot mouth wraps around him arrives in Din’s brain and he almost has to stifle a groan. Corin’s biting his again lip now, brow furrowed in focus, the streak of blaster grease looking, somehow, ridiculously sexy to Din as he imagines it slowly smudging and fading as those lips work over his spit-slick cock. 

He sucks in a breath. The caf might be cooling down, but holy bantha shit, Din is hot now. He bites his own lip, wanting desperately to palm his cock. 

“Hey, _kar’ta_ ,” he says from behind his datapad. “You busy?” 

“Hmmm?” Corin looks up, eyebrows raised in question, and the stupid little streak of grease kills Din all over again. Corin still has no idea it’s there and he just looks so perfectly, delightfully askew. 

“I said, ‘Are you busy?’” Corin looks admonished for a fraction of a second until he sees the mischievous glimmer in Din’s eyes as he glances up over the datapad. He cracks a little half smile and the smudge of grease stretches with it. A shiver snakes up Din’s spine. Apparently this is a thing for him now? Grease smudges? Whatever, he’ll roll with it. He scoots over in the bed and puts the datapad down. 

But Corin seems to decide that two can play the game Din is obviously trying to initiate. “I don’t know, _cyare_. These blasters aren’t going to clean themselves.” He gestures to the open weapons case on the floor. “Maybe you should come down here and help me out.” And then his vixen of a husband bites his lip again and leans back a bit, unfurling his knees to bend loosely in front of him, and patting the floor next to him. 

Din would prefer to fuck his husband in the bed, but the floor seems like a reasonable alternative, at least to his aching dick. He rolls out of bed with a lazy stretch and walks over to Corin, who’s risen up on his knees. It’s deliciously close to his earlier thoughts, and Din can’t help himself. Cupping Corin’s chin in a firm grasp, he runs his thumb over the pout of his _riduur_ ’s lower lip, smearing the black grease down Corin’s chin. The thought of his cum striping alongside the smudge enters Din’s mind unbidden and makes him shudder ever so slightly. _Stars, that mouth_. He hooks his thumb inside, over Corin’s teeth and onto the searing heat of his tongue. The moan that leaves Corin at that reverberates faintly in Din’s hand. 

“Fuck, _cyare_ , you look so good.” Din’s voice is low, thick. 

Corin bites lightly on Din’s thumb and then catches the hand in his own, drawing it out of his mouth, but only so that he can kiss at Din’s wrist instead, open-mouthed and with the scrape of teeth. “I am,” he says, pausing, looking up. “Good, I mean.” 

Din hums his agreement. He’s hard as hell now, but he also got a great sleep last night for the first time in a long time, and even without caf, he feels like he has the energy to tease. “Well,” he says, “like you said, these won’t clean themselves.” And he plunks down and picks up a blaster, trying to hide his smile. 

Mouth dropping open a fraction, Corin blinks a couple times at Din. A little shadow of doubt crosses his face and Din almost feels guilty, but the trust between them is complete now and Din knows the hesitation will pass. They’ve both healed so much over the past few years and it’s given an ease to their interactions that wasn’t there before. 

As predicted, the darkness on Corin’s face is fleeting, and is quickly replaced by a playful setting of his jaw. Din ignores it, focusing instead on the blaster, disassembling it and cleaning it in practiced, efficient steps. He can feel Corin’s eyes on him, but keeps going. Corin’s picked up the blaster he’d been working on before, but his hands stay motionless on it. It doesn’t take long before his husband’s resolve snaps. 

Shoving the blaster aside, Corin walks on his knees over to where Din is. A little thrill runs through him, but Din refuses to look up. Corin improvises. “There’s a part I need, just behind you there,” he says, leaning directly into Din’s space to reach around him. There’s no damn part, and instead, Corin turns his face to Din, looking up at him. “Oh, hello.” 

Din’s resolve cracks, too, flimsy and light-hearted to begin with. Corin is smiling sweetly, but looks ridiculous with the blaster grease smeared across his face. Ridiculous and stupidly, beautifully hot. His charming smile goes straight to Din’s dick. Growling softly, Din pushes Corin back onto the floor, straddling him. 

Their cocks are both hard, and Din rolls his hips slowly, delighting in the friction. They’ve both got pants on like damn teenagers, but it’s still arousing as hell. Din tugs at the bottom of Corin’s sleeveless shirt. “Off,” he says. 

Corin obliges, needing a little help from Din given his pinned position. When it’s off, Din looks at Corin, hungry. He’s seen this countless times before, but it never fails to have an effect on him. Corin is all hard muscle and strength, but he’s also soft, soft skin. There’s the faintest dusting of freckles on his chest and shoulders. You have to be close to see them, but they’re there and Din loves them. Loves that he knows about them when, likely, very few others in the galaxy do. He thumbs the smudge on Corin’s lip again and then runs his hand over Corin’s chest, down to the band of his loose pants and then back up to brush over a nipple. Corin’s head falls back, mouth parting on a short groan. 

“I thought you said you were good,” Din says, rolling his hips again and pinching the nipple between his fingers. Corin bucks up, trying to increase the friction between their cocks, and grunts. 

“I am,” he protests. 

Din circles featherlight fingers around Corin’s other nipple. “You couldn’t even wait for this until we were done with the blasters.” Corin has always been a work-before-play—or rather, an all work, feel guilty about play—kind of guy, something that was drilled into him by his asshole of a father. And Din is determined to drill that out. Corin deserves to feel good. Deserves everything good that this shithole of a galaxy can possibly give him. He’s taunting now only because he wants Corin to claim what he deserves for himself, wants to hear him insist that he does deserve it. 

“I finished three before you even initiated this.” 

“Only three?” Din lowers his mouth to the nipple his finger had been circling. “Maybe I should stop. We should probably finish the work before we take the time for this.” 

“Unngh, yes, only three. Fuck, Din. You are a menace. I don’t need to finish cleaning blasters to—”

Din grins. “To what?” Din says it against the skin of Corin’s abdomen, shimmying backward to move his mouth lower and lower down his husband’s body. He’d imagined Corin doing this to him earlier, but now finds he wants, somewhat desperately, to taste instead. He palms Corin’s cock through his pants. He’s got no underwear on, and Din can grip his length fully, even through the barrier of the fabric. The touch makes Corin squirm. “To what?” he repeats. 

“To feel good.” 

“Ah.” Din sits up a bit and starts undoing the tie on Corin’s pants. “Why not?” 

Running a hand over his face, Corin smiles exasperatedly. “I know what you’re doing here, _cyare_.” 

“Mhm, you do? Then be good and say it, _ner_ _kar’ta_.” Din tugs the pants down, to the top of Corin’s thighs, just far enough to access Corin’s cock. He runs gentle fingertips through the hair at the base and over Corin’s balls, but doesn’t wrap his hand around him yet. 

“I’m—ahh—” Din bites, lightly, at the tender skin of Corin’s upper thigh. “I’m good—I’m good and I don’t need to—Ah, fuck Din.” Din licks a light, wet line from the base of Corin's cock to the tip, unable to completely resist tasting him any longer. 

“You don’t need to what? Finish what you have to say if you want my mouth.” Wedging a hand underneath him, Din kneads at Corin’s ass, ignoring how the hard floor makes his knuckles hurt. 

“I don’t need to do anything to earn feeling good. Except, uhh, kriff—” Din takes the tip of Corin’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. “—Aren’t you kind of trying to make me earn this, you little hypocrite?” Corin huffs out a little noise that is half laugh, half moan. 

That gives Din pause, and he lifts his mouth off Corin, momentarily taken aback. A weird mix of emotion floods over him, the tingle of embarrassment at being called out mingling with happiness that Corin was willing to call him out. The confidence to do that is something hard won for his _riduur_. 

“Well, I—” Din stammers, “I guess you're right.” 

“I am,” Corin says, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks absurd laying flat on his back with his arms crossed, his dick out, and blaster grease smeared across his face. It breaks the tension in Din, who barks out a laugh. 

“Well,” Din prods, “What are you going to do about it?” 

“I—” A flush creeps across Corin’s chest and up onto his face. “Well, I think you ought to suck my cock. Now. Because I don’t need to earn it. But for the record, I do like being teased. And I mean, you only have to do it if you want to, I don’t mean—” 

With a laugh, Din cuts off his husband’s endearing ramble. “Corin, I have no idea what galaxy you’re from, but in this one I always want to suck your cock.” And he drops back down, taking Corin’s hard length into his mouth as far as he can without gagging. 

Corin groans, long and relaxed, as Din slides his mouth back up to the head of Corin’s cock and down again a few times, getting him as wet as possible. There’s a filthy part of Din that wants to choke on that cock until his eyes run, but they’re not quite there yet. In a minute maybe. For now, he pulls off long enough to spit in his hand and wrap it around the base. He pumps his hand a few times before he finds the right rhythm—slow and rolling—and then he lowers his mouth back down on the glistening head, savouring the taste of Corin’s precum. Unable to resist teasing him a little longer, Din keeps the attention of his mouth focused mostly on the head of Corin’s dick, moaning around it because that, more anything, drives Corin wild. 

“Fuck, _cyare_ , that’s—” Corin’s hips stutter. Din’s learned that Corin always finds extended focus on the head of his cock a little hard to take, the sensation intense and overwhelming at first. Corin’s uncut and the head is sensitive, almost to the point of being too sensitive, but the effect on him is electric if Din does it right. He tortures Corin like that a bit longer, to the point that he’s keening mindlessly and almost at the point of pulling Din’s mouth off him with the hand he’s got fisted in his hair. Then, he flattens the hand he’d had on Corin’s dick out to rest on his hip and swallows him down, deep into the back of his throat. 

The first few times he’d done this, tried to take Corin this deep, Din had choked and gagged. And not in an even remotely arousing way either. In a spluttering, hacking, born of inexperience way. Given the helmet, a blow job was something he’d only ever be able to offer a _riduur_ , and Corin had been his first. Perhaps that aspect of the act is what has made it his favourite in the time since they’d said their vows. The fact that it was something that would only ever be for Corin, something he’d never done with anyone else. So by now, Din’s perfected the art of taking Corin down, his eyes only watering a little, the burn at the back of his throat a turn-on rather than a warning that he’s about to do something ill-advised. He relishes the tears that prick at his eyes as Corin begins to buck up to meet him. Along with the ache in his knees from the hard floor, it’s a sweet pleasure-pain and it turns him on with a brutal, brilliant intensity. 

He’s ready to do that, swallow Corin down and taste him, until Corin comes. He’d wanted to fuck him, but they have the whole day and there’s time, so he figures he’ll finish this off and wait until his husband’s recovered enough for round two. But Corin, it turns out, has different plans. He’s close, so close—Din can tell from the tremble in his thighs and pant of his breath—that when he tugs Din’s hair, Din thinks at first that it’s just Corin warning him that he’s about to come. He sucks him harder, hollowing out his cheeks and digging the nails of his hand lightly into Corin’s hip as his own want twists sharply within him in anticipation. But then Corin’s sitting up, pressing his hand to Din’s chin to ease him up and off his cock. 

Din looks at his _riduur_ , jaw slack and lips swollen, unsure what this is about. “Everything good?” he pants, breathless. 

Corin smiles and manages a nod, looking radiant with his cheeks pink and his sweat-sheened chest heaving. He's trembling a bit and it takes him a second to find his voice. “Yeah, _cyare_. Really, really good. But, uh, I want more.” 

Grinning, Din cups the back of Corin’s head and kisses him hard. Corin seems to groan at the taste of himself on Din’s tongue and that sends sparks down Din’s spine. He pulls back. “Whatever you want, _kar’ta_. Anything.” 

Corin looks at him earnestly. “Well, I want you to fuck me. And I wanna come with your dick in me. But first I want—” Corin pauses, and wipes a thumb at Din’s mouth. “Sorry, I got blaster grease on you. Musta been on my hand.” 

Din barely stifles the undignified laugh that almost escapes him. He knows ought to tell his _cyare_ about the streak on his face, knows Corin will be annoyed as hell when he finds out that it’s been there this whole time, but it’s too damn cute and he just doesn’t want to, courtesy be damned. “Yeah, musta been,” he echoes coyly.

“Okay, get the lube and then sit on the bed,” Corin orders, making the stupid smudge even more adorable. Din does as he’s told, shucking off his pants as well when he sees Corin step out of his the rest of the way. He’s not sure how sitting is going to facilitate the process of getting Corin ready to be fucked, but then Corin pulls a pillow off the bed, drops it between Din’s feet and nestles down to kneel between his legs, and Din realizes he’s going to see those lips around his cock after all. His toes curl at the thought, and it’s all he can do not to die a sudden, inelegant death when Corin lowers his mouth onto him, lips circling his cock.

It’s a perfect, wet heat and Din can only endure it so long before he's on the edge of a steadily building orgasm. He hates to, but he nudges Corin off him and tugs him off the floor. Tipping his forehead against Corin’s abdomen, he takes a minute to catch his breath and come down from the brink he’d been teetering on. He wants this to last, wants to watch Corin come undone on his cock and right now he wouldn’t make it ten seconds inside him. Not to mention his hands are currently shaking too hard to even prep Corin. So he takes a minute and just enjoys the feeling of Corin’s nimble hands petting through his hair and breathes in the warm scent of him, the clean-sweat smell of his arousal. 

A sweetness flows through him at his husband’s gentle touches; it's a deep fondness that cuts the edge off the intensity of his lust. He wants to show Corin that fondness now as he takes him. He loves Corin always, in a constant, deep thrum that will forever be with him, but in this moment he feels it so much it hurts. It’s _kairkiyc_ , heart-desperate, and overwhelming in the very best sense of the word. When he takes Corin in his mouth for a second time this morning, tears of a different kind prick at his eyes. 

He sucks him slow and gentle as he grasps for the bottle of lube he’d tossed on the bed earlier at Corin’s request. He can’t immediately find it, but Corin picks up on it and leans over slightly to pick it up. Din hears him pop the cap, and he holds his hand out palm up for Corin to squeeze some onto his hand. Reaching behind Corin, he slips practiced fingers between his _riduur_ ’s ass cheeks and slides them over his entrance, teasing around it in an easy circular motion. 

Din keeps up the rhythm of his mouth for a bit longer. Corin is still a bit loose from last night’s activities, and Din works the first finger into him easily. When he's ready for the second, Din pulls off him with a wet sound that seems to go straight to both of their cocks. He slips his finger out. Corin groans, and Din steps him backwards slightly, rising up long enough to step out and around him and then push him back down to the pillow he’d knelt on before. Din grabs a pillow for own knees and then bends Corin over the bed and begins to work him open with a single-minded focus. He wants the tight heat of him around his aching cock and he's not sure how much longer he can wait. 

A string of curses leaves Corin’s lips as Din brushes his prostate, muffled by the rumpled bed sheets he’s pressed his face into. Din seeks out that spot again and again, fingers pumping a little faster, a little harder, and, after a few minutes, Din doesn’t have to wait anymore because Corin is begging for his cock. 

Standing, Din tugs Corin up a bit so that he’s bent over with hands on the bed and slicks his cock. He rubs more lube around Corin’s entrance and then lines himself up. “You sure you’re ready?” he asks, not trusting himself to be the judge of that right now. His desire is thick enough that he can’t quite think clearly and he doesn’t want to hurt Corin. 

“Ahh, Din, fuck. No, I’m begging you because I’m _not_ ready. Stars, _di’kut_. Just fuck me, please!” Din can _hear_ the eyeroll in his words. 

Din loves a lot of things about Corin, but damn he _loves_ when he gets sassy. Loves it because it is an absolute treasure that he’d never, ever thought he’d get. Corin had been so timid, so broken in so many ways when they’d first met. And that brokenness is still within him, probably always will be to some extent, but it’s a healing scar now instead of an open wound. 

And who is Din to deny Corin? He begins to press in, slow and careful, doing his best not to let his brain short-circuit from the tight, encompassing heat of him. When he’s fully seated, he bends over Corin for a moment, kissing the barely visible freckles on his shoulders with reverent lips. Then he whispers, half-hoarse with want, in Corin’s ear. “Ready?” 

“Fuughh, yes, move. You’re killing me!” Corin bucks back against him, impatient, and Din has to bite down on his lip hard to keep from snapping his hips into him violently. His husband may be sassy, but he’s also got a pain tolerance that’s too high for his own good, and Din wants this to be all pleasure. Pulling out only shallowly at first, Din starts with a slow, undulating roll of his hips and lets his hands roam the broad expanse of Corin’s back. After a while, he can feel fine tremors in Corin’s shoulders and knows they can’t last in this position, at least not comfortably. Corin is as strong as beskar, but if Din’s own arousal is any indication, he’s also brutally turned on and struggling to hold that position on arms that feel increasingly shaky. Plus, Din wants to see his face when he comes, wants to watch that silly little smudge as Corin’s face screws up with pleasure. 

Din pulls out almost all the way and fucks into Corin hard, once, twice, three times, and then pulls out completely. Corin whimpers a protest and looks over shoulder. 

“On the bed,” Din manages, though arousal has mostly stolen his ability to form coherent sentences. ‘Want to—” He loses his breath a bit as Corin obeys, crawling onto the bed and flopping over onto his back, his cock hard and heavy and leaking against his stomach. “—see your face. When you come.” 

Corin bats his eyelashes, foolish and coy. “Hard to resist, I know.” 

Din's heart absolutely soars at that, despite the fact that the black smudge across his face makes it comical as all hell. Corin could never, ever see his own beauty and generally refused to believe he was anything other than ordinary looking. So even hearing him joke about it is a precious, beautiful thing to Din. 

Din settles between Corin’s legs, manhandling him a bit to get him into position, and then pushing back into him again, quicker this time. His hips immediately snap into a thrust and he lifts one of Corin’s legs to get the angle just right. He knows he’s got it when Corin’s eyes roll back in his head and he bites again at his bottom lip. 

He lets go then, fucking into Corin with abandon, not wanting this to end but egged on by his own building desire. Din’s getting closer and closer to the brink again. He feels crazy, pleasure scrambling his thoughts, almost everything reduced the snap of his hips and slick heat of Corin’s ass. 

“Fuck, Corin, I’m—you’re so tight. I can’t—touch yourself.” Nothing he wants to say comes out right, but Corin gets the idea. He spits in his hand and grasps his cock, working it hard and fast in time with Din’s thrusts. 

If Din hadn’t spent years of his life as a warrior, disciplining his body to obey his command, he probably wouldn’t have lasted long enough to let Corin come first. Even so, it’s a near thing, Din’s vision whiting out around the edges as he tries to follow every move of Corin’s face as he comes undone for him—his parted lips, his furrowed brow, the pink of his cheeks, that blasted smudge of grease. Din doesn’t make it fully past the end of Corin’s orgasm before his own burns into him, blazing up from his belly like a fire and tumbling out of his mouth in a string of curses. His hips stutter as he spills into Corin and his release feels almost impossibly long, impossibly good. 

In the aftermath, he collapses onto Corin in a brainless heap, cock still inside him. They’re both half out of their minds, panting and sweaty and achingly happy. Corin is mumbling that he loves Din between curses and that’s what finally leads Din back into some semblance of coherent thought. He lifts himself up a bit and peppers Corin’s face with kisses, pausing between each word for a kiss. “ _Ni—kar'tayl—gar—darasuum—ner—mesh’la—drala—cyare_.” Corin laughs a little under the affection, receptive but unable to completely banish his habitual shyness. Din cups his face, smiling warmly down at him as he runs a thumbs over the black streak of grease that crosses his cheek. It’s faded a bit around his mouth, as Din had pictured earlier, but is still there, still makes Corin look unguarded and silly and sweet. 

Din slips out of Corin and rubs a soothing hand across his husband’s thigh. His legs are askew, his hair a mess, and his eyes are getting heavy-lidded as post-sex fatigue creeps up on him. Marvelling again at how beautiful he looks, Din shifts to lie down beside him. He presses his cheek to Corin’s sweat-damp chest and listens to the beat of his heart as it slows and steadies. The silence that settles over them is familiar and comfortable. It’s the languid quiet of a morning spent doing not much at all and just enjoying each other instead. Din’s favourite kind of morning. 

Nudging his sleepy husband onto his side, Din wraps himself around Corin, pressing his face into the soft fluff of his husband’s now even messier hair. The black caf on the bedside table is probably more than cool enough to drink now, but Din finds he doesn’t much care. He’s drowsy and relaxed, and the jolt of energy it will provide seems less important now. He lets Corin’s sleepy breathing lull him back into his own rest, ready to let their lazy morning stretch into a lazy afternoon. Besides, Corin’s still got that smudge of grease on his face and will kill Din dead when he sees it in the mirror and realizes it was there the whole damn time. Best to be well-rested to endure that wrath, Din decides, his impish grin lingering on his face as he falls back asleep. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  **TRANSLATION NOTES**
> 
> _bavodu'e, buire_  
>  aunt/uncle, parents 
> 
> _cyare, (ner) kar'ta, riduur_  
>  love/lover, (my) heart, spouse
> 
>  _kairkiyc_  
>  heart-depserate or heart-pain; a love so intense it's like a physical ache
> 
>  _di'kut_  
>  idiot
> 
>  _Ni—kar'tayl—gar—darasuum—ner—mesh’la—drala—cyare._  
>  I hold you in my heart forever, my beautiful, strong lover. 
> 
>   
> **Thank you for reading! 💜**


End file.
